


Lazarus

by Ceres_Libera



Series: Switch [4]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-26
Updated: 2011-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-28 05:02:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceres_Libera/pseuds/Ceres_Libera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The life and times of Leonard H. McCoy MD/PhD continues on, in ways he had never contemplated as remotely possible. Nearing the end of their first five year mission, Leo takes Jim home to Georgia for Christmas 2262 which falls just before Jim’s 30th birthday. Written for the Space_Wrapped 2011 Christmas challenge on Live Journal for prompt #46, which asked for Christmas at the McCoy family home, sap and lots of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lazarus

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: Switch verse, based in the ST:XI universe, but strongly influenced by all canon ST-verses. Lazarus is the fourth story in the Switch-verse, and yes, there is a story missing, sorry! You don’t have to be familiar with the previous stories, but it will probably help.

+

The light diffusing through his eyelids was so bright that it bathed the world in red, rousing him from his hectic dreams. Leo struggled against the tight grasp of an unsettled sleep, his ear caught by the buzz of an engine revving and falling. That noise, so different from the steady hum of the _Enterprise’s_ great engines, had even supplanted the newer, omnipresent sound that he’d become used to. He fumbled for the tricorder at his bedside, determined to find out what the little buggers were up to, aside from disturbing his rest, but his hands, still fumble-fingered and swollen, wouldn’t cooperate. First, they encountered a cocoon of entirely unnecessary blankets and then his obscured fingertips encountered something that might have been wicker. Deprived of one sense, he opened his eyes and immediately closed them, surprised but reveling in the true golden light of day.

Georgia.

That’s right -- he was in Georgia.

Leo drew in a lungful of Terran air, inhaling the scent of earth and grass that – save for one other fragrance – connoted home. Well ... his childhood home, anyway. When he opened his eyes this time, it was on a smile, at the sound of a far off but distinctive double sneeze. He’d have to get some antihistamine into Jim, just as soon as he found where the hell Jim had hidden his medkit. Leo pushed the covers away from his chest – Jim had wrapped him up good and tight before he’d consented to leave him on the verandah – and shaded his eyes from the sunlight until he could see Jim, his personal noisemaker, a ways off and determinedly driving a small riding mower around the lawn. The afternoon sun was shining directly into his eyes as it lowered, obscuring his ability to see what pattern Jim was cutting into the grass. That didn’t really matter. It was enough to just watch him, to see Jim working the controls of the small tractor as he turned this way and that precisely, his space-pale arms almost as white as the t-shirt he was wearing, their own planet’s sun lighting Jim’s hair golden. He smiled wider at the sight, and heard a sigh next to him.

“I’m fine, Gram,” he said, without turning his head.

“Thank God,” she said acerbically, but he could hear the echo of worry in her tone. “You never had much of a flair for the dramatic as a child, Leo, but your entrance this morning more than made up for that.”

He turned then to find her just where he expected her to be, next to his chaise in a wing chair, her feet up on a stool, knitting in her lap. Jim never would have consented to leave him unattended on the porch, even to accomplish his ‘secret mission’. And even if he had consented to leave Leo all alone on the porch, Gram would most certainly not have agreed to what she surely considered a foolish notion. After weeks of illness, it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to waking to find someone sitting next to him. Still, it was slightly discombobulating for it not to be Gaila or Nyota, or his other friends from the _Enterprise_ , but his grandmother. On the small table between them, he spied his tricorder, a glass of water and his PADD. He reached for the glass and Gram moved as if to help him. Leo scowled. “Gram …”

“You growl at me one more time, Leonard Horatio, and I will pinch you good, bruising be damned.”

Leo smiled at her with sincere fondness, and her stern expression softened, but he could see how worried she had been by the new lines etched onto her beautiful face. “Sorry, Gram,” he said softly. “The littlest things wear me out, but I am getting better.”

“I know you are, baby,” she sighed. “But I am old and tired, and you’re going to be the death of me before I make it to my century.” She leaned over and touched the exposed skin around his eyes with just the pad of her finger, being careful to keep her nails away from his still fragile skin. “Those little buggers have been buzzing away all afternoon,” she said, her expression worried. “Maybe it was too much for you to come home.”

“Gram, they’re doing just what they’re supposed to,” Leo said, bringing his gloved hand up to hers. “Besides, this is just what I needed.”

She smiled at him, but there were tears in her eyes.

“Anyhow,” he added, “Jim has always wanted to experience a ‘real McCoy’ Christmas.”

The porch door swung open from the inside, and Ted McCoy strode out onto the porch PADD in hand, still strong and straight at 95 years of age. “Lily and Drew will arrive on Saturday,” he announced, “and a ton of ‘em are going to show up for your damned tree trimming party on the Solstice. They’re all staying too damned long.”

Gram rolled her eyes at Leo in an elaborate fashion and whispered loudly to Leo. “He still likes to pretend that he doesn’t like Christmas – until it’s just us for a quiet one, which he complains endlessly throughout.”

“I can hear you, Lizbeth, and you know, I’d be fine if someone would occasionally host a big ass party like we do, but no one ever seems to offer.”

Leo held his tongue while Ted looked him over, but really, who the hell in the family had the kind of room that his grandparents did? This had been the family home for generations, after all.

“That nap did you some good, boy. You look slightly less like shit,” Ted said conversationally.

“Why, thank you, Ted,” Leo said, his drawl as dry as dust. He and his grandfather had become better friends over the past four years, but no one would ever mistake them for being close.

“Ow, woman!” Ted bellowed after Gram delivered the promised pinch to the quadriceps of her husband’s thigh. “The boy knows he looks like hammered ass, all bloated and red and blotchy under that skin thing. All I’m saying is that he looks a mite better than he did when he first got here, least as far as I can see.”

Leo sipped from his water glass slowly as Gram glared holes through Ted’s skull, telling him in no uncertain terms that she sincerely hoped that he’d learn something that resembled tact by the time he started his eleventh decade on the planet. Leo snorted some water at her imprecation-laden language. Knowing Ted the way he did, he was pretty sure that Klingons would lay down their arms in a mass conversion to Buddhism before that occurred. Honestly, though, he couldn’t disagree with his grandfather. He’d not recognized his reflection more than once during this ordeal, and despite the fact that he was incredibly improved, he’d been sick as a dog when they’d gotten to the farm. He had seriously underestimated how much the travel would take out of him. This, of course, had been after arguing with Jim that they were always traveling somewhere every day, so why should this be any different? He sighed at the memory -- he’d just been being a stubborn asshole, as per usual. He had a vague memory of apologizing over and over to Jim for not letting him beam them from SF High to the farm, and of Jim shushing him as he struggled to get him upstairs without damaging him, impeded by the fragility of his still healing dermis, the hypervolemia skin Leo was wearing, and his exhaustion. Leo’s arguing with him about taking a nap on the verandah probably hadn’t helped their chaotic entrance any. Still, he couldn’t regret it. December was usually cloudy and cool, but it was a sunny, beautiful 16 degree day, and he wanted to be outside in the fresh air and abundant, radiant sunlight.

“He is healing!” Gram said insistently to Ted, but she had lost his attention already.

Like Leo a few moments earlier, Ted had shaded his eyes with his hand and was staring off into the distance intently, looking after Jim. “What on Earth is that boy drawing into my lawn?” Ted asked grouchily.

Leo smiled as he turned back to watch Jim driving the tractor one-handed while he looked back over his shoulder at where he’d just been. He supposed he could tell Ted that whatever it was might not be from Earth. Knowing Jim, it could be one of the star clusters that they’d discovered. That would be festive and appropriate, as it was nearly the solstice, despite the warm temperature. He batted some more of the smothering blankets away, and watched Jim until his eyes fell closed once again.

+

2262.204

It was humiliating for a doctor with many degrees as Leo had to admit that it was Jim, a man with no medical training whatsoever, who first said out loud what Leo had successfully denied for so long. Something was very wrong.

Oh, denial was an old friend to Leo, and really, he should have a degree in _that_ , and an _advanced_ fucking degree at that. He’d denied until he no longer could that his Daddy was dying, and even worse, that there was nothing he could do to stop it. He’d denied that his marriage was over until the day that Jocelyn had served him with papers, and during that brief, horrendous period of estrangement between him and Jim years ago, he’d denied that he missed Jim like he would miss the blood pumping in his veins were it suddenly to disappear.

And the irony of that thought was not lost on him, when it all came to light.

But first, there were the symptoms that he’d been ignoring.

Exhaustion. Well, that was easy enough. They rolled from mission to mission, interchanging long periods of boredom with abject terror, a cycle jarring enough to give any healthy man a heart condition, much less disturbed sleeping patterns. And after that last run in with Ambassador Spock, and finally getting him set to rights, well … it had been a hard few months, with no shore leave in sight to relieve them of their burdens. Still, he wasn’t unusually tired. After all, he was 36 now, and while not in his dotage, neither was he in the first blush of youth. Besides, the stresses of being CMO _and_ Jim’s partner would be enough to raise any man’s blood pressure, and make his digestion difficult. At least, that’s what he told himself when he saw his rising rates, and felt the fullness that lingered long after meals had ended. He stepped up his cardio, and cut back on any and all substances that might be elevating his blood pressure, like any good doctor would.

But he did nothing else, not even a full blood work-up, not even when he noticed how easy it was for him to get hard, or how swollen his feet would get after a day’s work. The former he attributed to a resurgence of the honeymoon phase for him and Jim, courtesy of the fall-out from the Ambassador’s last visit to the _Enterprise_. The latter, he just attributed to poor circulation, and spending too much damned time on his feet.

Now, reading the unequivocal results of his blood work, he could tell himself that he’d been a fool, but he could no longer deny what Jim had brought to his attention, when he’d pointed out how the imprints of Jim’s hands on Leo’s skin didn’t whiten and then fill with blood. They were already ruddy and he bruised easily, a fact he hadn’t noticed, or had ignored until Jim had brought it up, along with noting how sallow his skin was. Another observation, by the by, that Leo had just dismissed as being a response to being aboard for too long with no natural sunlight.

“ _Medici, cura te ipsum_ ,” he murmured, looking at the results. Chapel turned at his words and stared at him.

“Doctor?” she asked, tilting her head.

He shook his own head and dismissed her, walking away. He had to tell Jim first, had to prepare him for the inevitable. Polycythemia, and a true Xeno- strain, no less, alien and unknown -- raging through his system. His spleen was enlarged, his liver compromised. He’d be lucky if he had a year left, luckier still to find a cure in that time.

There was simply no denying it anymore.

+

350.2262

The next time Leo opened his eyes, it was to the sound of Jim’s absent-minded humming. Leo was resting against his chest, his back hot where the hypervolemia skin had inflated to protect his too easily bruised dermis. He could hear the sound of his own blood circulating, magnified by the enclosure of the suit, and the drone of the nanobots repairing his capillaries and transporting wastes. It was dark out, but the porch was warm and bathed in radiant light, courtesy of the translucent chimenea that was burning away next to Jim, the smoke from the fire venting up through a pipe in the porch roof. Jim was holding a PADD in his left hand, next to the fire. The soft light of a reading lamp from inside the house provided further illumination. Leo blinked and focused, pleased to see that Jim was reading a novel, not working on ship’s business. Jim needed a break from playing nursemaid, never mind the weight he carried as Captain.

Leo felt the muscles shift below him as Jim raised his unoccupied hand to rest on Leo’s head, careful not to put too much pressure on his scalp. “You awake now, Bones?”

“I guess,” Leo groused. He reached over and tapped a finger against Jim’s PADD to get the time. It took the chrono seconds longer than normal, due to the membrane covering his fingers. Even that light pressure caused the nanobots to rush down his arm, their black bodies visible under his still distended and swollen skin. “Little fuckers.” He narrowed his eyes, wondering if his arm was slightly less swollen looking or if he was just imagining things.

“Those little fuckers are awesome, Bones,” Jim said. “And Scotty is a fucking genius. Sit up a little more, old man. You’ve got to be getting livid from having lain on your back so long.”

“He wasn’t the only genius at the party, Jim, and I’ve been lying on my back for weeks,” Leo drawled. “I doubt a couple of pleasant hours spent on the verandah are going to make all that much of a difference.”

“More like ten hours, Bones,” Jim said quietly, but Leo could hear the tension in his voice. “Gram said that you woke up after a couple of hours and talked for a bit, but then you were down for the count again. She was really worried when you slept for another six hours and counting.”

Leo sighed. “Sleep is the best thing for me, darlin’, and you know it. There’s nothing wrong with me that isn’t being fixed. It’ll just take a little time.” He hated this, hated hearing the worry in Jim’s voice, hated knowing how much of a burden he’d been throughout this whole ordeal. Right at the moment, though, what he really hated was that Jim had positioned him so that he couldn’t see his face, couldn’t see if his words were making an impact, if Jim really accepted that this disease had been vanquished. In the weeks when it had gotten really bad, his vision had begun to be compromised – but, he’d been given the chance to see Jim’s face clearly again, and he was hungry for any opportunity to do so. “Jimmy,” he said, his voice low. “C’mon over here where I can see you.”

Jim groaned. “Bones … no fair using that voice on me. Shift up.”

Leo contracted his abdominal muscles and let Jim help him lean forward, feeling the suit adjust as he changed positions. Jim slipped out from behind him, but kept a gentle hand against Leo’s neck to keep him upright, sliding some pillows against his back. He turned away before Leo got a chance to get a good look at him, going around the chaise to pick up something in the darkness close to the railing.

“Time for dinner, Bones!” Jim sang out.

“Jim,” Leo said. “It’s after 22:00 hours. It’s way past …”

Jim popped the tabs on the warming tray, uncovering something in a bowl that smelled wonderful. “Don’t even start , Bones,” Jim said sternly, stirring. “You know damned well you need to eat, and Gram needs to see an empty bowl in the morning. You should have seen her face when you slept through dinner. You’re going to eat every last bite of this.”

Leo sighed. “Will you help?” He asked softly. He wasn’t being manipulative, really, even if Jim was too damned thin at the moment. He knew how big Gram served up her portions. There was no way he was going to be able to clean that bowl.

Jim smiled at him, an honest one that reached all the way to his eyes, and moved to sit down by his lap. The light from the chimenea played over his tired, beloved face. “You do your part, and I’ll make sure that Gram sees an empty bowl.”

Leo sighed and lifted the spoon, smelling the aroma of a home-cooked stew wafting to him, “It smells like be-“ he began suspiciously.

“No beef,” Jim interrupted, then scolded. “She knows you can’t have the iron, Bones. And no mushrooms before you ask. She did all her reading about the dos and don’ts. She won’t,” Jim began, in a poor imitation of Gram’s tone and accent, “be responsible for you getting the gout on top of everything else.”

“That I did to myself,” Leo said quietly, lifting a full spoon to his mouth.

“Bones,” Jim said severely. “There’s no way that you could have known that your vaccine would turn on you like this.”

Leo swallowed a mouthful, and loaded up another, determined to make a dent in the bowl. “That isn’t true, Jim,” he said curtly. “An unknown alien virus with no cure, and an untested vaccine. There are protocols and damned good reasons for them. I should have –“

“Bones,” Jim said again, this time in the Captain’s tone that he’d come to know over the past four years. “I’m the one that gave you the cure for CHF all those years ago,” he raised his voice to talk over Leo’s protests, “and if I hadn’t you would have _died_.”

Leo swallowed and spooned up another mouthful, knowing that he’d never win the argument, but knowing that it was true nonetheless. He’d been an impetuous ass, and the cause and effect of what he had done were clear. The fact that he’d been saved, again, was not immaterial, but a kind of cold comfort. Whatever he was suffering now, it was really his own fault, and his penance was seeing how much harm he’d done to all the people who loved him, but none more than Jim, and Gram. “I’m just …” he swallowed another mouthful while Jim patiently waited. “I’m sorry, Jim. I’m sorry for all of it.”

Jim raised a hand and rested it gently against his cheek, trying to put no pressure on Leo’s still healing skin. “I could say some shit about how you’ve pulled my balls out of the fire about a million times, and that I owe _you_ , but you know it doesn’t work that way, Bones.” He looked away, and Leo saw the exhaustion on his face, and the shine of dampness in his weary blue eyes. “I’m just … I’m glad we’re here, and that it worked, and I thank Ambassador Spock for that. If he hadn’t …” Jim’s sentence drifted off into the cooling night, and Leo shivered.

“He owed it to you, Jim,” Leo said, with a bit more sass.

Jim smiled. “He owed it to _you_ ,” he said, pointing at Leo. “And I’m grateful that he saw that.”

Leo huffed out a breath, and ate some more, but he was tired and feeling full, and God help him, sleepy again. He might have to spend the night on the chaise at the rate he was going. The spoon dropped into the half-empty bowl and caught Jim’s attention. He scooped up a couple of spoons full for himself and then badgered and cajoled Leo into allowing himself to be spoonfed, before he placed the bowl on the porch floor, and opened the communicator on his belt. “Kirk to Enterprise,” he said.

“Jim, what the hell?” Leo asked, as Scotty answered.

“Two to transport to Location 2,” he said, and Leo didn’t have time to object before he shimmered back into being in the room upstairs in the old farmhouse that had been his father’s once upon a time.

“Jim,” Leo protested, finding himself on a heap of pillows on the king-sized bed that Gram had bought for them, Jim falling onto the bed next to him, laughing as if he was delighted to be knocked off his feet by the transporter beam.

“Oh, please,” Jim said disparagingly, bouncing to his feet. “Like I’d let Gram find you still asleep on the porch in the morning, Bones. Not gonna happen.”

“But the fire … ” Leo protested.

Jim leaned forward and gave Leo a tender kiss tasting of stew. “I’m gonna go right down and shut everything off and up. You just sleep.” He said sternly, before he kissed Leo once more and then bounded away across the room. “I’ll be right back, and you better be sleeping,” he warned.

Leo huffed and leaned back against the pillows. “Sleep,” he muttered crossly, “that’s all I do, is _sleep_.” The nanobots whirred under his skin, in a turmoil due to the rematerializing, no doubt. He could see them faintly, going to and fro under his skin, checking on cell regeneration and stabilization. “Hmmph,” he said. Maybe he’d get a paper out of this, prove for once and for all that there was something wholly unnatural about the transporter beam, as he was sure that his slightly elevated blood pressure had nothing to do with those sweet little kisses that Jim had given him. He sighed and leaned back against the pillows, looking around the room. When it had all gone to shit, he thought that he’d come back to this room to die, like his father had, hadn’t wanted to die in their room on the ship, to leave Jim with that memory to supplant all the others they’d made in there.

Well. It didn’t matter, anyway. He was not going to die, and while this might be the room that his father had died in, it wasn’t exactly the same place anymore. He was just enough of a contrarian to feel grateful and yet sad that Gram had changed the room around, not just the bed. He looked over at the empty bedside table, their heap of luggage beyond it, still unpacked, from the looks of things. “You better bring me my tricorder, Jim Kirk,” he muttered crossly, more awake than he’d been all day. And now that he was, he really needed to void his overly full bladder. He could, of course, void into the skin, but really, he found that practice unhygienic in the extreme. Besides, he could do this. It wasn’t that far.

Leo commanded the bed to raise him to a better sitting position and waited a few seconds after he swung his legs over the side before he stood gingerly. So far, so good -- no vasovagal syncope – he didn’t even feel light-headed, although the droning of the nanobots had risen as he had. “Yeah, work on that, you little bastards,” he said, carefully taking the dozen or some steps to the head, arms outflung for balance like a toddler.

He set the toilet to measure his output, pulling his penis out through the fly in the pants he’d traveled in hours ago. He looked at it critically before he uncapped the skin. He was flaccid, he noted clinically, although not completely. He should be pleased by the fact, but it just made him more morose. He felt unmanned by the whole experience, despite the fact that he was being a fool and an ungrateful ass besides. It would come back -- his strength, his appetites for everything -- but damn it, it was killing him not to be able to really touch Jim. Mostly it was killing him that Jim couldn’t touch him. He hadn’t even realized how much he relied on Jim’s touch until he couldn’t bear it, until he bled under his skin from the lightest of pressures.

He looked at himself in the mirror over the sink while he continued voiding his bladder, which seemed to hold an endless amount of liquid. The old bastard was right. He did look better, even compared to this morning, when they’d arrived after a shuttle ride best left unremembered. At least he wasn’t sallow anymore. The whites of his eyes were white, not yellow and bloodshot besides. He bared his teeth and looked at his gums, which were reverting to a more normal pink. Still, he wouldn’t risk using an old-fashioned toothbrush, which he liked to wield, despite the fact that the sonic was really a better tool for tooth decay prevention. And what he wouldn’t give for a shower, or a long soak in a tub. It had been months since he and Jim had been able –

“Bones!” The note of terror in Jim’s voice was unmistakable.

Leo glanced into the bedroom and saw Jim rushing to the side of the bed he couldn’t see from the doorway. “In here, Jim,” he said. “Not in a heap by the side of the bed, I promise.”

“Bones!” Jim waved his arms around, sounding frustrated and a bit frantic. He ran both hands through his hair, and then grasped the back of his own neck hard, visibly trying to control himself. “I would have taken you!”

“I’m a big boy, Jim,” he said gruffly, knowing that being his usual ornery bastard of a self would reassure Jim more than a show of weakness. “Been peeing on my own for most of my life, you know.”

But Jim was not appeased, and his mouth was a grim line as he stalked into the bathroom.

Leo sighed. He absolutely fucking hated seeing that expression on Jim’s face, knowing as he did, no matter what Jim said, that Jim’s terror was his own damned fault.

“Bones, is that all from you?” Jim asked motioning at the toilet. He looked a bit awestruck.

“Apparently,” Leo said, somewhat amused. He was still peeing, but the flow was lower. “The human bladder is supposed to max out at a tad over a half a liter for a man my size, but I’m going for the record here.” He smiled. “This is good, Jim,” he said, off Jim’s worried expression. “If I’m starting to void all the fluid, that’s really good.”

Jim looked slightly dubious as Leo continued to fill the bowl, and then he blanched. “Whoa!” He was already reaching for his communicator. “That’s not right.”

Leo looked into the bowl and saw the floating black bodies of nanobots. He leaned forward and peered down at them to ascertain that they were not swimming. “Do NOT call M’Benga,” he ordered. It was bad enough that the man had left his new assignment at New Vulcan to help with this clusterfuck.

Jim had already summoned the ship. “Bones,” he began warningly.

“Jim,” Leo said drily, giving his dick a gentle shake. “They’ve got to get out of me somehow.”

Jim was wide-eyed. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure I’ll be shitting them, too,” Leo drawled sardonically, stepping over to the sink and sticking his gloved hand in the sonic sanitizer. He sighed. “I’d _really_ love a shower.”

“Captain Kirk?” M’Benga’s voice came over the comm.

Leo sighed. He could hardly be angry with Jim when it appeared that the ever-efficient Bridge crew had transferred them to Sickbay after hearing him utter Jabilo’s name.

“Stand down, Jabilo,” Leo said. “Jim was startled by me voiding nanobots.”

“Oh,” Jabilo said, sounding pleased. “That’s real progress, Leonard! Congratulations!”

Leo flexed his hands inside the gloves, looking at them carefully. “The edema is definitely receding,” he said. He looked over at the toilet display. “I just voided 830 ml.”

Jabilo whistled over the comm. “Yikes,” he said. “Feel better?”

Leo laughed. “Believe it or not, I think I might have to go again in a little bit.”

“You can use the suit, Leonard,” Jabilo said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Leo answered. “Goodnight, Jabilo. I’ll scan myself if the Captain here brought up my tricorder, and beam you my results. McCoy out.” He picked up his sonic toothbrush and ran it over his teeth and gums, looking at Jim, waiting for the inevitable questions.

“What does this mean, Bones?” Jim asked. His tone was cautious, like he was afraid to hope.

“I won’t know for sure until I scan myself,” Leo drawled, “but it’s likely that my system is starting to move out all the excess liquid that surrounded my organs and my lymph, under my skin, everywhere, really.”

Jim was nodding. “And?”

“This fucking skin will come off soon,” Leo sighed, and then took a step forward to put his brush on the shelf and swayed. Goddamnit, as much as he hated to admit it, he needed to sit down. The one step forward, one step back aspect of his unexpected recovery was driving him fucking crazy.

“C’mon, Bones,” Jim said coaxingly. “Let’s get you back in bed. C’mon.” He held out a hand, palm up and Leo placed his palm down wearily, wishing like hell that he could really feel more than the warmth of Jim’s skin through the glove. Jim slipped a hand under his armpit to steady him.

Ah, hell, he needed to lie down. The nanobots buzzed all over him as Jim untied the drawstring for his pants and nudged them off, moving Leo closer to the bed. Jim checked that he was steady with a simple “Bones?” before he turned away to pull back the covers on the bed, then opened the shirt that Leo was suddenly too fumble-fingered to get off and bent down to open his shoes. Leo sat down on the bed and lifted his feet to free them, ripping open his Velcro enclosed shirt and shedding it with leaden fingers before he lay back, swinging his legs up with a groan. He couldn’t wait to wear real clothes, either.

“Bones,” Jim’s voice came from above him. “You’re thinner.”

“I’ve lost a lot of muscle, Jim.” He waited wearily in the bed as Jim held the bedclothes above his legs. The suit was transparent, so he was nude but covered. Impenetrable, and untouchable.

“No,” Jim said thoughtfully. “You’re noticeably less swollen.” He reached a finger out and gently pressed against the inside of Leo’s thigh.

Leo raised his head and watched as the flesh dimpled, and then filled back in. It was slow, but it filled back in. “Hmm …” he said.

“That’s good, right?” Jim’s voice was excited, and Leo couldn’t help the smile.

“Just like the peeing, Jim,” he drawled, dropping his back and closing his weary eyes. “It’s all good. Slow … but good.” He heard the rustle of clothes, and didn’t need to open his eyes to know that Jim was stepping out of his pants. He heard the clink of the communicator hitting the bedside table, and realized that he still needed to scan himself. He’d do that in just a minute.

“Bones,” he felt the bed dip, and opened his eyes to find Jim crouched above him, hands resting next to Leo’s ears, knees on either side of his hips. He was still wearing his briefs.

He smiled sleepily. “Had a dream like this once,” he said. He raised a heavy hand to pluck at Jim’s t-shirt. “But you didn’t have your shirt on.”

Jim leaned forward and hovered until he was just above Leo’s mouth. “What was I doing in this dream, Bones?”

Leo opened his mouth under Jim’s, letting the air Jim was exhaling enter his mouth. “You were kissing me,” he said, waiting now for Jim’s kiss as he had then.

Jim leaned down, and pressed the lightest of kisses on Leo’s lips. “Like this?”

It was aching and sweet and so much of what Leo missed that he felt tears rising in his eyes. “I think you can kiss me a little harder,” he grumped at Jim, feeling Jim’s smile curve up before he kissed the corner of Leo’s mouth and the bit of skin below his nose before the suit began.

“Jim …” Leo groaned as the kisses rained gently, one after another, all over his mouth, but never long enough. He reached for Jim’s hips.

“Shh … baby,” Jim soothed. “I’m not trying to tease you, Bones.” Another kiss dropped on his mouth and then another. “I just …” Jim sighed. “I love you so much, Bones.”

The noise that came out of Leo was broken, but he was smiling. After months of sweating and bleeding from every orifice and crying out in pain, he was beyond any sense of embarrassment with Jim, but the need … the need to be close to Jim, to feel him, to give something back, to watch him come, was almost overwhelming.

“Jim …” Leo’s hands slid up from his hips and grasped Jim’s shirt.

“Shh …” Jim soothed again, kissing and kissing and kissing him. “I’m right here, Bones, and you’re right here with me.”

Leo pulled at his shirt, and Jim rose up to his knees, still keeping all his weight off Leo, and drew it up and off. He swung back down to kiss Leo, barely catching the ring that he wore around his neck on a chain before it hit Leo in the cheek. He spun the necklace so that the pendant of the ring was dangling onto his back.

“Sorry, Bones,” he muttered, going back to those infernal soft kisses.

“For driving me crazy?” Leo asked, as Jim drew back to laugh. “I just …” He traced a hand across Jim’s chest, imagining the heat and feel of his skin. “I want my ring back, Jim.” He wrapped a hand around Jim’s ribs and tugged lightly and Jim followed his hand, hovering closer but still maddeningly far away. “I want my life -- our life together -- I want it back.”

Jim traced the skin around Leo’s eyes with a careful finger, before leaning down and pressing a light kiss to Leo’s mouth, slipping his tongue gently inside but pulling back before things got too heated. “No teeth, Bones,” he chided.

Leo bit Jim’s lower lip, just a nip. “You can’t bite _me_ , Jim,” he said plainly, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t bite.” He smoothed his palms down Jim’s back, sliding under his briefs, pushing them down. “Let me just …” he pulled Jim toward him, trying to get the Jim’s erection closer to his mouth.

“Bones,” Jim tapped his fingers against Leo’s cheek to get his attention. “No, Bones. I don’t want _that_.”

Leo raised what he hoped was an elegant, yet suitably incredulous eyebrow.

“OK, I _do_ ,” Jim said. “And I want it bad, but …” he rested his forehead against Leo’s. “I know that you’re going to find this hard to believe, but I was never the kid who tried to open my presents before the holidays.”

Leo didn’t think his eyebrow could register more incredulity, but he tried, and Jim laughed and kissed him, and for the first time, Leo could feel the strain of how much he was holding back, how in teasing Leo, Jim had teased himself.

“When we do this, I need us to be _together_ , Bones,” Jim said. “I need to touch you, and to see your skin flush and to know it’s OK and I just … fuck!” Jim flung himself onto the bed next to Leo, but away from him, flushed and turned on and angry. “I promised myself,” he said, “I _promised_ , that I wouldn’t do this.” He crossed his arms over his chest, turning in on himself and now Leo ached for a whole other reason.

“Dumbass?” he drawled.

Jim glared at him.

“What makes you think that I don’t want that, too, Jim?” he asked. “What the hell do you think I mean, when I say I want our life back?”

Jim turned on his side and stared at him, as Leo mirrored him.

“When I get like this when I’m recovering,” Jim said after a few silent minutes, “you always remind me that this is our life, happening right now.”

Leo laughed. “Jim, next time I tell you that, which I swear to God, better not be any time soon, you tell me to fuck right off, OK?”

Jim laughed until he had to wipe the tears from his eyes, and then he reached out a hand to Leo, and left it palm up, his little finger just touching Leo’s gloved hand. Leo blinked, trying to keep watching Jim, so vivid and alive next to him on the bed, but his recovering body would not cooperate.

“Bones?” Jim whispered.

He hummed a reply.

“Dream about exactly how I’m going to peel you out of that skin, OK?” He felt Jim brush a kiss against his lips.

Leo fell asleep smiling.

+

283.2262

The alarm on Leo’s PADD chimed, confirming that his test results were ready. He steeled himself against what he knew were going to be disappointing results, and made the call to Jim. Long experience had taught him that it was best to do the communicating about illness in a clinical setting. Now that he was the patient, this was even more critical. Jim’s quarters were private -- were _theirs_ \-- the place where they took off their Captain and Doctor personas and replaced them with _BonesnJim_ , as Nyota had slurred one night. At the time, she’d been a little worse for wear, but happily so, more than slightly tipsy after a long dinner followed by a nightcap in their place, Spock radiating gentle amusement at her side. He sighed at the thought of them, at Nyota and Spock happy and together, at the fun the four of them used to have before Ambassador Spock had decided to meddle. Dinner together once a week had been their custom when time and missions allowed, and it had been good, but now Nyota and Spock were barely communicating, and he and Jim …

Until now, he’d only had his own suspicions about the efficacy of the Fabrini treatment, had a hope that he could keep his illness out of their quarters -- keep it managed, keep it at work, and allow his place of respite to remain unsullied. But these results had clearly put paid to that idea, and the feeling of reality spiraling out of control was dizzying. More than any other fear, the thought of _leaving_ Jim made him feel terrified and bereft. And guilty. It wasn’t even the dying so much, or even the pain he knew he’d feel should this disease continue on its current course. He was a doctor, damn it – he knew that pain could be managed, but that ultimately, death would not be denied. He just wanted that ultimate end to be a good century from now, because he’d promised Jim, he’d _promised_ and he’d meant it, been arrogant enough to believe that he would cheat death the way he always had. Maybe, he brooded, he was like the magicians of old in those fantastic novels that he’d devoured in his youth, only capable of performing his magic for the benefit of others, but impervious to it himself. Because this cheat wasn’t coming easy, damn it.

He allowed himself one more minute to brood, wondering what would happen if he did die, and if Nyota couldn’t find it in her bruised heart to forgive Spock for being too blind to grasp the ramifications of his elder self’s machinations. Maybe then what the elder Spock had tried to set into motion would come to pass. Hell, maybe this had all been a part of the plan from the damned beginning. He threw the PADD on his desk in disgust. He had always been cynical, but now faced with his own mortality, he’d become a goddamned morbid bastard.

“Bones!” Jim rushed through the door to his office, Nyota and Christine both hot on his heels.

Leo was surprised to see Spock behind them, and he felt a real pang at seeing how Spock hesitated, as if he might not be welcomed. For a man who claimed not to feel emotion the way humans did, he sure as hell held on to his embarrassment. In fact, that might be one thing that they truly had in common, he and Spock, that unwillingness to let go of their guilt after they’d erred badly. Leo’d blown up his whole life by falling into despair once, but that had ultimately brought him Jim. The generous part of Leo could only hope that Spock would come to such a gracious end, as much as he hoped that he would be there to see it – with Jim at _his_ side, and not Spock’s.

“Y’all need to sit down,” Leo said calmly, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk, but the four of them froze into a tableau and stared at him. Christine’s expression was as stoic as Spock’s, while Jim and Nyota’s had both fallen.

“It’s not working,” Jim whispered, and Nyota reached for him, but stopped herself at the expression on Jim’s face. He’d grabbed onto the back of the chair nearest him, and seemed to be wavering between using it for support or hurling it across the Leo’s office.

“Not yet,” Leo said. He paused. “The Fabrini cure,” he began … but faded out. “Jim, it’s complicated.”

“Explain it to me,” Jim’s demand held a note of petulance, a sign of how very frustrated and upset he was. This time, Nyota did place a hand on Jim’s tense forearm, and Leo could see him struggling with himself not to shake her off. It was odd how much Jim and Nyota had bonded in these few months. It had always been Leo and Nyota in the bathroom gossiping and grooming, and Lord, his eyebrows were a sight without Nyota managing them for him. Jim’s were even more overgrown, because no matter how much he complained about Nyota’s propensity for ‘grooming’ them – “like we’re monkeys, Bones” -- he still managed to bust in on their sessions at least once every couple of days so that Nyota could pick at him. Yet, in the months since Spock and Nyota had broken up, Jim had become enormously protective of Nyota. In fact, Jim’s protectiveness was probably fueling Nyota’s hurt and staving off her loneliness besides. Leo sighed, watching Nyota talk earnestly to Jim in a low voice. He always had been a chivalrous ass under all the bravado, his Jim. Misguided in this circumstance, but chivalrous.

“It’s a good basis of treatment for xenopolycythemia, Jim,” Leo said with a steadiness that he was trying to assure himself was real, and not feigned. “But it was created to counter specific viral vectors. Unfortunately, the Fabrini don’t seem to have encountered the Capellan strain that caused mine.” He paused. “Maybe the Capellans rejected their assistance the same way they did ours. Anyway,” he continued, “the point is that this isn’t a wholesale failure, but it’s not a success.”

“You believe it can be adapted,” Spock said.

“I’m – yes, I do,” Leo said. _And I have to find it fast_ , he tried to communicate to Spock silently, and damn him, if he didn’t see Spock nod slightly as if he understood. “The viral vector has to be accommodated for, and … “ he swallowed, suddenly ashamed to say aloud what he needed His body was betraying him, and his stamina, not to mention his concentration, was shot. “I’m going to need some help.”

“Uhura,” Jim snapped. “Get me Ambassador Spock.”

“Jim –“ Leo said, “He’s not who I had in mind. I’m sending some data to people back at Starfleet Medical. Boyce has some hotshots—“

“What if he held something back!” Jim argued, fists clenched.

“He wouldn’t do that, Jim,” Leo said, despite the fact that he had just wondered that himself a minute ago.

“You don’t _know_ that, Bones,” Jim said severely. “He was so compromised when we saw him – he could have—"

Leo was shaking his head. “I really don’t think that’s the case here, Jim.”

“You cured _him_!” Jim roared. “He owes _you_!” He turned and stormed out of Sickbay.  
“Jim!” Leo started to round his desk, but Nyota held up a quelling hand.

“Let me do it, Leonard,” she said turning to follow Jim. “Leonard,” she asked at the door. “How long?”

“That’s hard to say, Ny,” he equivocated.

“How long, Leonard?” Her expression was as implacable as her repeated question, but her beautiful voice shook.

Leo hesitated minutely, and Nyota turned to look at Spock, her dark eyes full, and Leo was struck by how long it had been since he’d seen her look directly at her former lover. “2.63 Terran months,” Spock said softly. Leo knew that Spock, having denied Nyota the truth before, would not dare do so now.

“Thank you,” Nyota whispered, and then she was gone.

Christine looked incredibly uncomfortable at the undercurrents in the room, but she spoke up in her clear voice. “We better get busy then,” she said firmly.

“Indeed,” Spock said. “Doctor, would you please send any relevant information to my PADD?”

Leo dropped into his desk chair with a sigh. Spock had been uncharacteristically generous with his assessment in his opinion. He looked at him, but Spock was paying attention to his PADD and not looking at him.

“Oh, Spock,” Leo began, “you don’t need to …”

“I do not,” Spock interrupted him, “but I shall. Genetics has long been one of my interests, and with your permission, there are certain members of the Vulcan Science Academy who are very interested in your wellbeing. In these circumstances, Doctor, I believe that more minds focused on the problem is the better strategy.”

Leo stilled, hearing the sincerity in Spock’s words. “Thank you, Spock.”

There was just the slightest tinge of green on Spock’s cheeks as he gravely took his leave, leaving Christine and he alone for the moment.

“Jesus, McCoy,” Christine said with feeling. “What a clusterfuck this is.”

“Indeed,” Leo said, imitating Spock.

Christine leaned over the desk and planted her arm in the middle of it, catching Leo’s eye. “We,” she said clearly, “are going to buy you more time.”

Leo sighed. “Christine, “ he began, “you know very well …”

Christine slammed her hand down on the surface of the desk. “No,” she said angrily. “We’re going to figure this out. You know damned well that we’re more than halfway there. We can buy you enough time.”

He wrinkled his nose. “You’re talking about hemodialysis again, aren’t you? You know that’s only a stop-.”

“You’re damned right I am,” she said, interrupting him to point at his chest. “Until we figure this out, holding this disease at bay is _exactly_ what we have to do, and _you_ are not going to say one word about it, because you know I’m right. Your liver is shot, your spleen is four times its normal size and still growing, and your blood chemistry is a mess. I’m surprised you haven’t thrown a clot yet, but you won’t, with the right treatment. I’m telling Scotty and Gaila to step it up on the fabrication of the dialysis machine, _and_ their other ideas.” She turned and marched out the door, pulling out her communicator.

“Jesus,” he said with feeling. “That’s barbaric!”

“I don’t want to hear it!” she bellowed as the door closed.

He sifted through the data on his PADD and felt the ever present exhaustion creeping up on him. “Fuck it,” he said. He was going back to their quarters for a nap. He stomped out through Sickbay and hollered at Chapel that he was taking a break, and she flapped a hand at him, still talking into her comm. He knew that if she needed him, she’d comm him, unless one of the junior medics was around. He moved across the decks, nodding to passersby. His legs felt heavy – he’d have to elevate them while he was resting, try to get the edema down. He hoped nothing came up this shift -- he was fucking tired, aside from understaffed. He wished he’d never signed off on M’Benga’s going to New Vulcan now, but how could he not have let him go? The man specialized in Vulcan physiology, and the colony needed all the help it could to maximize their reproductive fitness. If they couldn’t elevate their birth rates … well. He had his own problems to solve. If he survived this fucking disaster, he’d spare a thought for New Vulcan.

Leo felt his energy flagging as he crossed the threshold into their quarters. He didn’t even bother to take off his boots and leave them by the door as he was always yelling at Jim to do, just kicked them off at the foot of the bed, reaching into the closet shelf to grab the extra pillows as he stumbled by it. His thoughts moved randomly, spinning onto Nyota and Spock and all the time they were wasting. It was clear to everybody else that they weren’t moving on from their relationship, that they were still intertwined, and likely to stay that way, as they’d both signed up for another five year hitch. It made him want to shake both her and Spock, because didn’t they see? Time was precious. Maybe Spock had been a stupid asshole, but Nyota was being stubborn for the sake of stubbornness. He’d told Spock exactly what he thought of what he’d done when the man had asked his opinion, but maybe it was time for Leo to talk to Nyota. Because if there’s one thing he knew, it was stubbornness, a dance he’d done before, when he’d convinced himself that he didn’t need Jim. And yeah, Jim and he hadn’t been lovers when they had had stopped communicating, but there had been a trust between the two of them that had been fractured. Of course, there hadn’t been a betrayal between them, and he knew that was how Nyota felt – betrayed -- but the thing was – nothing had happened between Spock and Jim. It had been bad, and he knew it was Nyota’s decision as to whether what had happened was forgivable or not, but … he of all people could recognize when someone was talking themselves into staying angry, and denying how lost and lonely they really were.

He groaned as he lay down and elevated his feet, feebly flipping the spread from the other side over himself inadequately. He could have gotten under the covers, but that was just too much damned effort. He rolled on to his side and tried to find a comfortable position, missing the weight of Jim in the bed next to him, of the rattling whistle of his breathing as he slept. Maybe it was Jim that was talking Nyota into staying angry, fueling her hurt with his own very evident disappointment in Spock’s diffidence. Leo was a hell of a lot more sanguine about the whole deal. After all, Spock was really very young, when one considered the length of a Vulcan life. Besides, with the complications of the Ambassador’s illness and how Bendii Syndrome compromised others around them, was it really all Spock’s fault that he’d been malleable? After all, the Ambassador had affected them all. And love, he thought as his hectic thoughts slowed, made everybody truly stupid at least once, if they were lucky.

More than that, if they were just dumb.

He drifted in a formless sleep until he heard Jim’s voice, broken and sounding like a little boy’s, despite its deepness. “Mom,” he heard Jim saying in that strange, small voice. “Bones isn’t getting better, Mom.”

+

354.2262

Leo was dreaming about activities he’d gone too long without, lying in a patch of Georgian sunshine dozing, when a persistent banging sound – and not of the kind that he’d been dreaming about, damn it – roused him. He opened his eyes and stretched, taking stock and feeling … OK, really. The past couple of days, he’d done pretty much what he’d been doing for the last seven weeks, except that instead of succumbing to sleep and rousing to find his energy dwindling even more, he’d turned a corner. Every time he’d woken up in the past 48 hours, he felt _better_. He felt stronger. It was an incredible gift, this feeling of returning health, and one that he had to admit he’d really thought was too late for him to receive. Even with all the hard work that had been done, all of the research and the experimentation to adapt the Fabrini cure, even after he’d been deemed healthy enough for a new spleen, liver and pancreas, he’d known that it was possible that he might still die.

Yet even though he felt better on an hour-by-hour basis, he would only believe that this nightmare was over when the fucking skin came off. Honestly, he was starting to believe that he’d be wearing it for the rest of his damned days. He plucked at the suit in exasperation, sitting up in absolute shock when it _gave_ in his hands, and only weakly readhered to the contours of his thinner body, leaving puckers.

Jim chose that moment to make a louder ruckus outside the window and Leo, suffused with a kind of joy he hadn’t allowed himself to feel for months, turned his head to see him hovering with greens and Christmas lights in one hand, and a hammer in the other, his mouth full of tacks. This was really a poor idea – not Jim in a hoverbucket per se – but him with a mouth full of tacks that needed to be constantly removed so that he could holler at someone down below who could only be Gram. Leo, having done this dance a time or two -- or twelve -- knew that Jim should just shut up and do what Gram wanted, but Jim, of course, always had his own ideas, as well as endless faith in his own persuasiveness. Leo grinned and pushed the covers away as Jim continued to expound, all sweeping gestures and waving around the hammer.

He chuckled and wandered over to the window to add sound to the so-far mostly inaudible interplay. It was quiet in the house, with the windows closed and dampening the sound, but it was even quieter in his head. He’d heard nary a nanobot in nearly a Terran day. “Computer, open window,” he said, feeling a little bit like Scrooge waking up to find that it was Christmas day, that he hadn’t missed it after all. He waved a hand so the house computer could locate him more easily.

“drape nicely, and then if I twist it, I can put more lights on—“

“More is not necessarily better, Jim Kirk,” Gram shouted up, shading her eyes with one hand and gesticulating with the other. He could see Ted leaning over a porch railing with an amused, sardonic expression on his face, seeming glad that for once he wasn’t the one up in the hoverbucket, arguing with Gram.

“That’s not what I’ve been told,” Jim muttered.

“Boy, just put the damned crap up where she tells you to,” Ted hollered. “You might be able to tell Klingons what to do, but they ain’t ‘Lizbeth McCoy!”

Leo snorted in laughter, startling Jim.

He spilled some tacks into the bucket, swiveling his head and exclaiming “Bones!” before he maneuvered the bucket closer to the window. “Happy Solstice!”

At that same moment Ted chose to holler up from the porch. “Pants, Leo! Jumpin’ Jehosophat! No one wants to see _that_ , especially your Gram,” Ted continued to grumble as Jim ducked his head in the window to give Leo a good morning kiss.

“I can’t see a goddamned thing with the sun on the house like that and Jim blocking the way, Ted, just be quiet,” he could hear Gram scolding. “Although, baby, I don’t think you should be standing at the open window like that with nothing on but that skin. You’re still recovering.”

“He ain’t been a baby in 35 years,” Ted said in disgust, “and he’s got what? Four? Five goddamned doctorates? And he still can’t remember to put on some fucking pants before he comes to a window. What if my baby sister had been standing up here with me?”

“Shut up, Ted,” the voice of Leo’s great aunt floated up from the verandah. “You think I got my children without seeing any dick? And for your information, I stopped being your baby sister 90 years ago. ‘sides, I think that pretty boy’s got a good idea about the draping of the greens. It might be a right nice effect.”

“What’s wrong with my way?” Gram asked in an incensed tone.

Jim rested his head against Leo’s shoulder and laughed as Lily pointed out that she’d been doing it that way for the past 50 years and wasn’t Lizbeth always the one saying that change did a body good?

“Omigod, Bones,” Jim said, “they are going to kill me, aren’t they? Klingons I can deal with, but a whole houseful of McCoys is levels of epic bitchery heretofore unknown.”

“To everyone but me, fool boy,” Leo said, “and I done warned you before we came.”

Jim drew back and grinned at Leo.

“What?”

“You’ve gotten like 87% more Southern since we arrived here,” Jim said.

“You get Spock to do that calculation for you, Jim?” Leo asked, looping his arms around Jim’s waist, just in case he leaned too far from the hoverbucket.

“Did it all myself, Bones!” Jim said, with only the slightest of hesitations, thank God. He pulled away from Leo’s embrace and critically looked at Leo. Downstairs, the argument riled on.

“Oh God, they’re talking about Aunt Lily’s college boyfriend, now,” Leo said, rolling his eyes. He couldn’t help the laugh that burbled up anyway, and didn’t try to, not the least bit fussed about the argument he knew so well that he could recite it, along with every other member of his generation. He imagined his poor Uncle Drew had already abandoned the porch and was on his way to the barn for some rational conversation, with the horses.

Jim cocked his head to the side and listened. “Are they seriously arguing about something that Ted said to some guy she used to date 70 years ago?”

“You wanted to come here, Jim,” Leo reminded him cheerfully. “But never mind that, look at _this_.” He pulled at the suit near his neck and watched Jim’s eyes as it lifted away from his skin and only very lackadaisically returned to its former shape.

“It’s coming off, “Jim whispered. “Bones!” He gripped Leo’s shoulders and then stopped himself.

“S’ok, sugar,” Leo said, and Jim shivered. “I’m really OK. But, I really, really need a shower.”

“I’m coming in,” Jim said, shifting the bucket so he could get out.

“Jim Kirk!” Gram protested. “My lights aren’t done!”

“But …” Jim protested.

Leo laughed in a low, wicked voice. “I cannot wait to see how you’re going to explain this one.”

Jim’s expression was comical, but Leo could see that like everything else, he was figuring out a way to get what he wanted, while giving Gram what she wanted. “You know what? Your idea was better anyway, Gram,” he said loudly. “Five minutes,” he said to Leo in a low growl. “You sit that pretty ass back down and give me five minutes.”

Leo sauntered away from the window toward the bathroom, looking back over his shoulder to raise an eyebrow.

“Bones!” Jim yelled.

He waved from the bathroom door, and then made a little ‘hurryup’ gesture, chuckling as he heard the sound of frantic hammering. He shivered a little, having only noticing the draft from the window belatedly. It was a mite chilly, but nothing that a nice flannel shirt wouldn’t take care of. He relished the thought of wearing real clothes, imagining the softness of fabric against his skin as he brushed his teeth and voided his bladder -- thankfully only normally full and not ridiculously so as it had been for days, more confirmation that he was closer to healed. He weighed himself, and sent the results on up to Jabilo, scanning himself thoroughly to confirm what pulling at the suit had implied. He’d lost about 6 kg in water weight in the past three days, including today’s .75 kg loss. All in all, he was scrawny, untoned, greasy haired and -- he pulled the suit away from his neck and sniffed – he stank. As much as the hypervolemic skin could do to help manage the edema, it couldn’t help but trap the sweat and body oils inside the suit itself. Well, fuck it. Jim might have all sorts of romantic ideas, but the way he smelled right now was the exact opposite of sexy.

Leo pulled at the suit at its break points on the top of his head, giving a tremendous sigh when it actually fell open. Jesus, this really was _over_. He felt the sense of claustrophobia that he’d endured for the past two weeks ebb as the skin peeled down over his face and neck. He touched his face with his still covered fingertips and even then, the sensation was so rich that he moaned aloud. He needed a shave and a haircut, but a shower was first on the list. He pulled at the suit below his neck and the skin broke away from his torso, redolent with the smell of captured sweat, dead skin and illness. It smelled like a morgue, like the death and decay he’d been breeding for months. No more, he thought, and ripped the skin away from his lower torso with a fervid yank,freeing himself all the way, shedding the skin that had been his salvation and his tomb. He uncovered his hands with particular relish and crossed into the shower cubicle on newly sensitive feet. He ran the sonic to kill whatever had been breeding on his skin, then ordered the shower on at a tepid 24 degrees Celsius in case his skin really couldn’t abide the temperature.

He should have been ashamed at how loudly he moaned when the warm water cascaded over his head, but he really, really wasn’t.

“Bones!” Jim was yelling as he crossed the threshold to the bathroom, but stopped abruptly when he got near the skin, and covered his mouth and nose, then tried to play it off. “Wow,” he said in a strangulated tone, “that smells really bad.”

Leo just smiled, lost in the feeling of working the mild baby soap up to a lather in his hands before he started washing his hair. “It ain’t just the suit, darlin’. I’m gonna have to wash my hair like five times to get all the oil out of it,” he said. “Are you just gonna stand there and watch me?”

Jim jolted back into movement and started shucking his clothes, stopping to pull out his communicator, “Enterprise,” he said, beaming a shot at the suit, “transport what I’ve marked to … Bones, Sickbay?”

“Have them incinerate the fucker, Jim,” Leo said with feeling, rinsing the lather out of his hair, and manfully suppressing another moan as the lather ran down his back and on to the sensitive skin at the base of his back, curling down around his buttocks. He ran a soapy washcloth over his upper torso, taking his time. The sound of the water was incredibly loud in his newly uncovered ears, and he was probably yelling at the top of his lungs. He really couldn’t bring himself to care, though.

Jim laughed, but said into the speaker, “Medical recycling, please, Kyle. Kirk out.”

An instant later, the suit shimmered out of his line of sight and Leo gave it the finger as it vanished for good.

“Bones,” Jim chuckled as he got in the shower, “that suit wasn’t the problem.”

“Says the man who can’t sit still with any kind of regen on him without a boatload of tranqs,” Leo drawled.

Jim didn’t acknowledge the insult, just hovered in front of him anxiously for a second before he reached a hand out and touched Leo’s bare shoulder. “Bones,” he said in a whisper, and Leo struggled to keep his eyes open as Jim’s hand touched his skin.

“Bones,” Jim had tears in his eyes and Leo slid his hands over Jim’s, reveling in the feel of them before his hands roved up the skin of Jim’s arms. He felt Jim tighten his grasp on his shoulders, and he tried to pull him closer, but Jim resisted, needing to see, he realized, that Leo’s skin was no longer fragile, that it would tolerate touch.

When Jim was satisfied that all was well, Leo caught a glimpse of Jim’s blue eyes, brimming with tears before Jim surged in to kiss him desperately, over and over, then he buried his head against Leo’s neck and held on, pulling him in tight. He wrapped Jim up as much as he could, feeling weakened as much by the press of his lover’s skin against all of his touch-starved self, as from the illness that had ravaged him for months, and let the warm water of the shower baptize them both, washing their tears down the drain along with the remnants of Leo’s long illness.

And when their tears had abated, he set about proving to Jim how very much he had missed him.

+

A couple of hours later, Jim was back in the bathroom, trying to get his sex-mussed and sleep-tousled hair into some semblance of order, when Leo, wearing soft slippers and a flannel shirt that had been his father’s long ago, padded down the back staircase into the kitchen. He smiled when he saw the blonde head bowed over a cup of coffee as she read a PADD at the kitchen table.

“Nona,” he said with pleasure, crossing the room to greet Jim’s mother. “I almost didn’t recognize you without your groupie. Where’s your entourage?”

“Leonard,” she said, raising her head on a smile. She tilted her head and looked him over, after he’d planted a kiss on her cheek. “You’re looking much better.”

Gram bustled in to the kitchen. “He looks scrawny,” she corrected. “And what entourage? Winona, I hope you know that any guest of yours is welcome here.” She turned to Leo. “You better sit that ass down and eat something, Leo,” she said. “Now.”

He waved the bowl of oatmeal that he was spooning up from the stove at her, with a raised eyebrow and an affronted expression that conveyed, ‘What the hell do you think this is, Gram?’ without saying a word.

“Hmmpphh,” Gram said, as if she hadn’t made oatmeal with cinnamon and raisins just to tempt him. “No coffee for you, boy.”

He rolled his eyes and sat down at the table, working the nasty protein powder into the mix and adding some more cinnamon to mask its taste.

“Your grandson,” Winona said, with a twinkle in her blue eyes, “cannot seem to get over the fact that some of his colleagues are familiar with my work.”

“Familiar?” Leo choked out. “I thought Sulu was gonna have kittens when you came aboard. I learned more about heirloom tomatoes, radishes, apples and whatnot than I ever had a care to when he was sitting with me.”

“You talking about Mom’s fanboy again, Bones?” Jim asked from the doorway, damp hair in some semblance of order. Leo watched as Winona carefully assessed her son’s appearance, and saw the relief in the way her shoulders eased as he bounded into the kitchen, radiating energy and happiness. “Hey, oatmeal!”

Leo knew that Jim had eaten earlier, but he was pleased to see him scoop himself out a big serving. He wasn’t the only one who’d lost weight during his illness, athough thankfully, Jim was only down a few kg, and not the dozen he’d lost, as he’d wasted away under the bloat of the edema.

“Does Hikaru know that you refer to him as a fanboy?” Winona asked, with an arched eyebrow. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back, completely at ease for the first time since she’d stepped foot on the _Enterprise_ all those weeks ago. “Besides, reconstituting extinct species of tomatoes taught me a trick or two that just might have benefited you there, Doc.”

Before he could open his mouth to say anything back to his erstwhile mother-in-law, Gram’s voice cut across the room. “Don’t you sass Nona none, Leo. I won’t have it, not after everything that she did.”

“Oh, Elizabeth,” Winona said, “it’s all in good fun – you should have heard the trash talk we got up to when we played poker!”

Leo laughed. Winona was a true card sharp, something he appreciated in an opponent.

“During which time,” Jim pointed out, waving his spoon and talking with a not-quite empty mouth, “Hikaru literally sat next to her and filled up her drink, Gram, complimenting her on her playing. Hell, he would have picked up your cards for you from the pile so you wouldn’t have to reach, Mom.”

Now Gram looked puzzled. “That nice Mr. Sulu?” she asked. “He’s always seemed very pleasant, but quiet.” She paused and added delicately. “And I was under the impression that his interests lay elsewhere.”

“True love can change a man,” Leo intoned in a preaching tone that set Winona to giggling. “Or maybe it was the sight of all of those ripe fruits and vegetables, in all their curvy, succulent glory. Anyhow, I offered him some literature that gave him some tips as to what to do safely, as a CMO should.”

“You did _not_ , Bones!” Jim protested, and when Leo nodded cheerfully, he looked totally scandalized. “That’s my _mom_!” He pointed at his mother with his dripping spoon.

Winona smirked. “Oh, Jimmy, considering the things you subjected me to in your teen years, it would serve you right if I did begin a passionate affair with your helmsman.”

“Mom!” Jim had moved on to totally horrified. “I’m pretty sure his boyfriend would object! ”

“Ah hell, in for a penny,” Winona stretching her back sinuously. “Besides, he’s adorable, too!”

“My literature did cover accommodating multiple partners,” Leo added helpfully.

“Oh,” Winona said. “That’ll come in handy, should I choose to take Hikaru up on his offer.”

Jim was gape-mouthed for once, looking back and forth between the two of them and spluttering a little bit. “What offer? There was no actual offer, was there?”

Gram was standing by, hiding a grin underneath her hand. “My poor Jim,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “You know what’ll cheer you right up? Helping me pick out the Christmas tree. C’mon now.” She yanked Jim out of his chair so fast that he practically left skidmarks on the linoleum. Shortly thereafter they could hear Gram outside on the porch, hollering for any and all kids that were around to come on along for the tree cutting with ‘Captain Jim’.

Leo and Winona waited until the sound of engines and door slamming abated and then broke down into laughter.

“Live tree?” Winona asked, when they’d quieted.

Leo winced, wondering how Winona would feel about them cutting a live tree, but plunged on ahead. “We’ve got a stand that my great-great-granddaddy planted that we cut from, but we replace far more than we use.”

Winona waved a hand. “It’s a nice tradition,” she said. “Is the log in the fireplace from last year’s tree?”

Leo nodded.

“Very old-fashioned,” Winona remarked. “Not part of my tradition, you understand.”

“What was your tradition?” Leo asked, honestly curious.

“We didn’t really have one,” Winona said, rising to get another cup of coffee and leaning back against the counter. “My mother’s family was Jewish, but not really religious – high holidays, Passover, maybe. My grandmother was famous for moving Passover to suit _her_ schedule, which, you know, is not done. My father’s family celebrated Christmas, but we didn’t really spend much time with them. George’s parents,” she said, “they went all out when I first knew them, the tree, the lights – all the trimmings, but after he died …”

Leo nodded, having figured out as much from what Jim had said. “It just kind of stopped?”

“When the boys were little, she tried,” Winona said in a low tone, “but, even then, as it got closer to the New Year, George’s mother …” She sighed.

Jim’s birthday, Leo’s mind supplied, not just George’s death day. He held his tongue.

“I saw Jim out there decorating this morning,” Winona said, visibly moving the subject from the past. “He’s having a ball with this. Your grandfather said he cut some kind of pattern into the lawn?”

“You can see it from the second story,” Leo answered, “There’s a tree, with a menorah and some stars and candles, oh, and one of those Orion drums?”

“Orion drums?” Winona asked.

Leo laughed. “You should see him onboard the ship,” he said. “Everybody seems to have some kind of Winter Solstice ritual, and Jim likes to celebrate them all – if we can.”

“I bet he does,” Winona said fondly. “I was never much for rituals.”

“Plants, not people?” Leo sassed. “Although you might make an exception for your plant boy.”

Winona cuffed him on the back of the head lightly.

“I’m only half-kidding, you know,” Leo said. “Sulu would seriously throw over any beau he’s got if you just crooked your little finger at him.”

“Shut up,” Winona said fondly.

“Gonna yell at me some more, Nona?” Leo asked, getting up for a bit more oatmeal, and a small cup of coffee. He dared her to say anything to him about it with a look, but she only smirked.

“Do I need to?” she shot back.

“I had not given up,” Leo said crossly.

“You’re awful cranky for someone who just got laid,” Winona remarked.

Leo tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, I get it,” Winona said, “you think you’re just going to rag on my imaginary sex life, and I’m not going to say a word about your actual one?”

“It’s a good thing Jim isn’t here,” Leo murmured, sitting back down at the table. “This time he really would be scarred for life.”

“I’d like to point out that he’s _my_ son,” Winona said, significantly, “and no matter what Starfleet PR says, he _does_ take after me. “

“I’ll just take your word on that, Nona,” Leo drawled.

She huffed at him, and then leaned forward and poked at his chest. “You scared _me_ , Leo,” she said firmly, “and I know that you scared the shit out of Jim. Trust me when I tell you that he can’t do without you.”

Leo grasped her hand, and after a minute she relented and turned her hand over in his, meeting his eyes, and damn him if he didn’t see the resemblance between her and her son just then. “I didn’t _want_ to die, Winona,” he said. “I admit that I didn’t hold out much hope of living, but I wasn’t going willingly.”

She stared back at him, mule-stubborn, just like Jim, but he could see that she saw the truth of it. “Don’t you _ever_ go willingly,” she said in a furious, determined voice. “Don’t you do that to him.”

Leo’s heart ached for her, but he spoke clearly. “I promised Jim a long time ago, you know,” he said. “And I’ll always be grateful to you and Spock, and M’benga, too, that you worked so hard and made it possible for you to keep fussing at me,” He paused. “You would have made a fine geneticist for sentients had you chosen to go that way.” He squeezed her hand and let go to pick up a peach from the always full fruit bowl on the table. “But -- don’t tell Sulu – I’d have missed all the fruit.”

“Well, you know,” she said slyly. “Jim tells me that you used to date a woman who called you ‘plum’ – so maybe your particular genome did need a fruit geneticist.” Winona laughed uproariously at the expression on Leo’s face.

Goddamnit, Jim really did have a big mouth, sometimes.

+

355.2262

“I think just a quarter turn more, Jim baby. No, clockwise!”

“I shoulda made popcorn,” Tim said, plopping on the oversized couch next to where Leo was lounging on the chaise end, grinning, watching Gram continue her new Christmas tradition of bossing Jim around. Winona looked similarly amused as she stood in the nearby doorway between the dining and the living room, out of the fray, but able to see it all.

“You know, back in the olden days, when they didn’t have the antigrav clamps, this must have really sucked,” Leo said. “At least Jim doesn’t actually have to lift the damned thing.”

“Had to chop it down, though,” Tim pointed out. “And that is a huge fucker – what is it 3 meters?”

“Close,” Leo said. “You shoulda heard Ted yelling about his ceilings being damaged by sap.”

They looked at the tree that dominated the living room bay the piano usually occupied and rolled their eyes. Gram had already had Jim and some of the teenaged cousins move the piano into the front hall, where it was elegantly (according to Gram, at least) wedged under the staircase in an alcove in which he’d made out with Jim, once upon a time. He’d been on the verge of his 30th birthday then, but now it was Jim’s turn, and Leo wondered how late they’d have to stay up to get some alone time in front of the huge tree.

Even with all the extra paces that she was putting him through, he knew that Jim was absolutely loving everything about the elaborate McCoy Christmas – although he had allowed as how he might feel different if they didn’t have their own room, and bathroom besides. At the moment, they were very far from privacy. Jim was lying face down on the carpet, adjusting the tree to Gram’s bellowed commands from where she stood, on an ottoman amidst a sea of grandchildren, cousins and great-grands, all chomping at the bit to put up the decorations once the tree was finally turned and lit to Gram’s satisfaction. It had been a number of years since Leo had attended one of these tree decorating parties, and this one was very heavily attended. Some of his cousins wanted to see him, but Jim had posed for pics with so many children dressed in Christmas finery, that Leo had to wonder how many of them just wanted to meet the famous Captain Kirk, the hero of the Federation. He surely believed that plenty of McCoy Christmas greetings were going to feature his partner. No one was taking pictures now, more’s the pity, but much of the adult portion of the crowd were standing around and drinking already. Although Leo was looking forward to breaking in his new liver, ten in the morning was too early, even for him.

“You gonna check his eyes while you’re here?” Tim asked. “There’s a good half meter and then some left.”

“She could have gotten a bigger tree,” they said at the same time and then called jinx on each other.

Leo raised an eyebrow and Tim sighed, getting up and shuffling off into the kitchen to get him a Coke.

“You look good,” Tim said casually when he came back.

“I ain’t dying anymore,” Leo said in a low voice.

Tim flinched a bit, looking around to ensure that the children weren’t underfoot, including his own. He needn’t have wondered. Izumi had successfully navigated her way through the sea of big people, grabbing on to legs, clothes and the occasional table to steady herself as Leo watched. He poked Tim and turned his head in the right direction and they both watched Izzy drop to her hands and knees once she had a clear path, flat out making a beeline for Jim.

Tim’s expression immediately softened before he cracked up. “Uh oh,” he said.

Leo craned his neck to see around the bulk of cousin Ida, watching in delight as Izumi pulled herself up, using Jim’s shirt for leverage. He could hear Jim’s high-pitched gurgle from across the room. He’d always been a mite ticklish right there at the small of his back, which Izumi, holding on to the tree to turn herself, was determinedly seating herself upon.

“Sorry, Jim!” Tim yelled from across the room. He made no effort to get up and go retrieve his child, as she gleefully bounced up and down on Jim’s back. “It’s so funny, Leo – Izzy just _loves_ him.”

Leo nodded. “Most little kids like big kids who pay attention to them. ‘sides, Jim has always had a way with the ladies, no matter the age.” He caught sight of cousin Marylou, who was distinctly checking out Winona from across the room as another of their cousins introduced himself. He elbowed Tim, and nodded at Marylou.

“Yeah, she’s divorced again,” Tim confirmed. “Maybe looking for lucky number six?”

Leo raised both eyebrows. All along, he’d thought that Jim’s charm was a Kirk thing, but now, watching Winona being chatted up by cousin JoeFrank who was also clearly interested while Marylou was clearly plotting to horn in, he was rethinking that. “He ain’t single, is he?”

“He’s an asshole, is what he is,” Tim said darkly. “You want me to get up and tell him to fuck off?”

Leo shook his head. “She has a mean right hook,” he said. “And if ever anyone needed a punch in the mouth ...”

“You got that right,” Tim remarked. Across the room, Izumi had tired of bouncing on Jim and had wiggled off his back to stretch out beside him under the tree. A second later, they could hear her laughter as Jim tickled her belly. Then Gram turned on the lights, and announced that it was time to decorate and the crowd, knowing that food came after decoration, surged toward the tree.

“I’ll never get her out from under there now,” Nobiko sighed, walking past the two of them. She poked at Tim for not getting up and attending to their daughter.

“Ooh – you’re in trouble!” Leo crowed in an undertone.

“Shut up,” Tim said. “When are you going to have some?”

Leo raised an eyebrow at his cousin.

“Oh, shut _up_!” Tim said. “You’ve always wanted ‘em.”

Leo shrugged. “Been a bit busy, Tim,” he said mildly.

“Leo,” Tim said seriously. “Look at him.”

Jim had raised Izumi up to safety, away from the advancing horde, and was flying her up and around the tree.

“I know he’s great with kids,” Leo said. “But we’re just about to sign up for another hitch, and …”

“Leo,” Tim interrupted him again. “If you had died, he would have been left …”

“With zygotes,” Leo answered. “Not that it’s any of your business, but once we got my original stem cells, Jim and I had some discussions and we’ve got some zygotes in stasis. So, it’s a question of when, not if, all right? And more than that, I ain’t gonna discuss. Nobiko would slap your face off if she heard you asking.”

“No, she wouldn’t,” Tim was grinning. “She’d yell at me publicly, but later, she’d want to know exactly what I found out. You know she loves you both, and she wants Izzy to have cousins.”

Leo waved a hand around the room, which was so full of McCoy relations laughing, drinking and taking turns hanging things off the tree that he was yelling into Leo’s ear.

“Non-asshole cousins,” Tim yelled. “You asshole.”

Jim chose that moment to appear in the crowd, Izumi clinging to his neck. He was sweaty. “Jesus,” he said, crawling up from the foot to squish in next to Leo on the chaise. “Don’t get between the McCoys and an undecorated Christmas tree.” He leaned over to hand Izumi off to her father, but she clung to him. He shrugged and plopped her on his lap, where she amused herself by trying to pick off the glitter stuck to the front of his shirt, probably so she could eat it.

“They know that after the food comes out, the serious drinking can begin,” Leo explained.

“And the food don’t come out until the tree is decorated,” Tim yelled.

The crowd around the tree thinned a bit, long enough for Leo to see that the usual lopsided job – all the ornaments in the middle and the front -- had occurred.

“Go on in and eat, you savages,” Gram said. She sighed as the crowd receded, then turned to the couch where the three of them sat with Izumi, who had crawled onto Leo’s chest in pursuit of a sparkle that had thwarted her. “Well,” she said. “C’mon, boys. Get off your butts and help me.”

“Yes’m,” Tim and Leo said. Leo swung his legs down from the chaise and stood up, putting Izumi down on the ground. She immediately staggered over to Jim with her arms up, and he tiredly picked her up.

“Once more into the breach, Jim,” Leo said, slapping him on the shoulder. Izumi was enthusiastically chattering away about something, and yanking on Jim’s hair.

Jim threw him a feeble salute, one that might have included an excessive amount of middle finger.

+

“It really came out pretty, didn’t it?” Since this question was wrapped inside of an enormous yawn, it was almost incomprehensible.

“Go to bed, Gram,” Leo said in a low voice. Jim was dozing with his head against his chest, and Leo was rolling pieces of his coarse hair in his fingertips, reveling in the sensation, and the weight of George Kirk's ring back on his hand, where it belonged. He was also the tiniest bit drunk, which was right shameful, since he'd only imbibed a bare finger of some of Ted’s best whisky.

“ _You_ need to go to bed,” Gram said a bit snappishly.

Leo smiled. “Actually, I’m fine,” he said, and felt Jim press a kiss over his heart at that statement. “And I’ll go to bed as soon as my poor, worn-out partner can muster up the energy. _Someone_ ,” he pronounced significantly, “has been running my friend here ragged.”

Gram smiled. “He loves it.”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “Tomorrow,” Leo said, “he’s not doing anything more strenuous than helping me make gingerbread, and going for a walk. I’m going to go down and visit Saturn.”

“Gingerbread?” Jim’s head lifted at the mention of one of his favorite treats.

“I don’t think you should ride just yet,” Gram said, standing up.

“I said visit, Gram,” Leo pointed out. She crossed the room, and bent forward to kiss Leo on the forehead, stroking his cheek.

“Hmm …” she murmured. “I know Jim agrees with me, don’t you?” She leaned down and kissed Jim on the forehead, but left her hand on Leo’s cheek, studying his face. “And baby, I really think you should shave. Not that you aren’t handsome, but I like to see your pretty face. ‘sides, it looks sloppy.” She kissed Leo on the head, and stepped away. “Night, boys. Don’t stay up too late.”

Leo waited until Gram’s footfalls indicated that she was on the first landing and tilted Jim’s head up, kissing him slow and sweet. “You can stop playing possum, darlin’,” he said. “We’re finally alone. Been wanting to get you all by myself since forever. “

Jim smiled and stretched, curling up and over Leo to kiss him back soundly. They grappled on the long chaise for a bit, lazy kisses become something more earnest before Jim broke away. “Too many cousins around, Bones,” he said in the raspy voice that the promise of sex always gave him.

Leo hummed his reply, intent on getting the makeout session in front of the tree that he’d been dreaming of for long days and nights when it seemed like there was no hope.

“C’mon,” Jim said, untangling himself from Leo, ducking back in for fervent kisses all the while. “Let’s go to our room.” He stood pulling on Leo’s hands, and coaxing as Leo grumbled. “C’mon, Bones. Gram told me that she’s leaving the tree up to Twelfth Night so we’ll have plenty of time once the McCoy horde has cleared out.”

Leo laughed, allowing himself to be pulled off the chaise. “Did she promise that she’d take it down then?”

Jim cocked an eyebrow as he ordered off the lights downstairs. He looked puzzled as they climbed the staircase, hand in hand. “She said that she never takes it down before it.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Leo said. “Some years, the tree would still be up on Valentine’s Day, when half the ornaments had fallen off its dead limbs, and the damned thing was a fire hazard.”

Jim’s expression was incredulous.

“She hates the dark months, Jim,” Leo explained. “Anything she can do to make it brighter …”

“That’s kind of a nice philosophy,” Jim said, crossing in to their room. “Lights,” he paused at the threshold and turned back to look at Leo, who wasn’t entirely surprised to see the tree that Jim had given him years ago twinkling from atop the bench at the foot of their bed.

“You had it repotted?” he asked, looking at the new gold bucket. On the _Enterprise_ , the tree had been planted in one of the botany bays to do its part to contribute to the clean air system on the ship, and to take advantage of the filtered UV. All of which had significantly contributed to its growth. It stood a little more than a meter tall now. Everywhere they’d been, Jim had collected some small item that could be used as an ornament. There were more of these small tokens than there were branches to hang them from, but Leo loved the idea of it, and never said a word about the crowded, eclectic mish-mash. It was sentimental and slightly sappy, and he loved every second of it, despite his curmudgeonly traits.

“I repotted it,” Jim corrected. “It might not be a mighty McCoy Christmas tree, and I might not be as dedicated as her fanboys, but I did learn a thing or two about plants from my mom. Farmboy, remember?”

Leo kissed Jim soundly. “It’s my favorite Christmas tree, ever, Jim,” Leo said, when a thought occurred to him. “You think that we should plant it here so that it can reach its full potential?”

Jim broke away from Leo, and crossed the room to the tree, stroking its needles with a long finger.

Leo joined him, setting one of the starships spinning.

“I always thought that we’d keep it with us, on the _Enterprise_ ,” Jim said, looking at Leo before he added, “And then someday, when we buy a house with some land, we’ll plant it there and decorate it every year. I like the idea of it being the mother tree for our own crop of Christmas trees someday, creating a stand of them that our grandkids will use.” He smiled, the sparkling light from the holographic quasars reflecting in his blue eyes. “Sappy?”

“No,” Leo said immediately, touched beyond all reason. “I mean, yes. But I love that idea, Jim, I do. I think …” Leo hesitated. “I know that you want to stay in the black exploring, Jim, and I get it. It’s terrifying and fascinating and boring and really, really weird, but it’s _something_. I just don’t want to get to those grandkids when we’re too old to chase them around the place.”

When Jim smiled as brightly as he was at the moment, the laughlines that he’d been collecting for the past few years showed even more. On the verge of starting his fourth decade, Jim was honestly one of the most beautiful men Leo had ever seen. He reckoned he always would be, even when Jim was as old as Ted. “You mean that, don’t you?”

“That I don’t want to be a geriatric daddy?” Leo asked, puzzled.

“No,” Jim said. “That you’ll be here with me.”

“Jim,” Leo said, putting his arms around him, hearing the echo of Winona’s words from the other day. “My intention is to always be here. I don’t …” he struggled with what to say next. “I’m not like you, Jim.”

Jim’s snort of laughter was a little too watery sounding to be truly sarcastic.

“It goes against my nature to believe in the no-win scenario like you do,” he continued. “I know how short the odds were for me to be standing here, holding you in my arms. I thought that if I was still alive for Christmas, that I’d be lyin’ in that bed, hanging on by a thread. Not even able,” he whispered, swallowing his own tears, “to see your face, or the lights on the tree.”

“That didn’t happen, Bones,” Jim said fiercely. “I wouldn’t let that happen –“

“That ain’t my point, sugar,” Leo said quietly. “My point is that it was the last thing I ever wanted to do. I want those godforsaken adventures we always seem to fall into, and I want to have kids and raise ‘em, preferably not aboard the ship. I didn’t want to die, and I am _grateful_ to everyone who helped make it so, especially your mom and Spock.”

Jim stilled at the mention of Spock’s name, and visibly held himself back from saying something.

Leo decided to do the same. It was late and he was tired -- and they had five more years to work out all of their issues -- Jim and Spock. In truth, he might just be feeling a little bit selfish, what with far too many McCoys that weren’t him vying for Jim’s attention all day long. Now that they were finally alone and he was healthy enough to enjoy it, he wanted Jim’s attention on him, and nothing else, goddamnit.

“Let’s go on to bed, Jim,” Leo said, letting it come out full-on Southerner. He drew back to look Jim in the eye, sliding his hands around to the small of Jim’s back, pushing up Jim’s clothes until he could get to Jim’s skin. He shivered as Leo ran gentle fingers across it. “I wasn’t kidding when I said that I’ve been wanting to get you alone all day.” His lips hovered bare centimeters from Jim’s, a promise of what was to come.

Jim kissed him once, then twice, but drew off with a frown.

“Jim?” Leo was perplexed.

“That’s got to go, Bones,” Jim said, running his fingers over Leo ’s lips. “It’s too long, and I’m not getting enough,” he pushed the hair from Leo’s mustache away, “you. I want your mouth back, too.”

“Why – whatever for?” Leo asked, channeling his inner Southern belle.

“You owe me Hannukkah presents,” Jim informed him, dragging him by the hand to the bathroom. He sat up on the counter and drew Leo between his legs, reaching back one-handed for the sonic razor they shared.

Leo raised an eyebrow. “Nona said that you never really celebrated Hannukkah, Jim.”

“But we will, with our kids,” Jim said firmly. “And Christmas, and Yule, and Gamella, and Kwanzaa and O’eria and Q'oplatxi…”

Leo kissed him soundly before he recited all the celebrations in the known universe, and then drew back to grouse. “I can shave myself, you know,” he said mildly.

“You owe me,” Jim repeated, stripping off Leo’s shirts, and then his own.

Well, now, this might have some promise. Leo waggled his eyebrows at him, and pulled Jim’s hips closer as Jim wrapped the hand towel around his neck, and his legs around Leo’s hips. “How you figure that?”

“You didn’t let me unwrap my best present,” Jim said quietly, running the sonic over Leo’s cheek carefully, while his other hand held Leo’s face tenderly.

Leo felt himself blushing a little, but whether it was embarrassment or desire brought on by the naked look of love on Jim’s face, he couldn’t say. He ran his hands up and down the long muscles of Jim’s thighs, wishing that he could feel his skin and not the denim.

“Patience, Bones,” Jim said with a twinkle in his eyes. “Tonight, it’s you and me in front of our Christmas tree.”

“As I recall,” Leo said, “that ain’t exactly a new tradition.”

“But I hear traditions only get richer, and deeper – more meaningful, the more they’re repeated,” Jim said with a smirk, giving a little hitch of his hips that rubbed Leo in all the right ways.

He moaned, and then grumbled at little at Jim who was taking forever to shave his beard off. “We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we, Jimmy?” he said.

Jim kissed his newly bare cheek, and Leo felt a jolt at the sensation of his lips on the newly uncovered skin. He shaved the hair off Leo’s chin and kissed the skin there, too. “Promise, Bones?” Jim asked the question lightly, but Leo wasn’t fooled.

He looked Jim in the eye. “I do,” he said firmly. This time, it was Jim who flushed, and Leo who leaned forward to kiss him. “Happy Hannukkah, Jim,” he said, as Jim moved up to shave his right cheek. “I reckon it’s late, but …”

Jim shook his head. “Old Kirk family tradition,” he said. “Holidays automatically move to whenever you can celebrate them.”

Leo laughed, “Bending the universe to your will?”

“Whenever I can, Bones,” Jim said. “Whenever I can.” He kissed Leo firmly. “Merry Christmas, Bones. Wait--,” he said, finishing shaving him with a flourish and a wicked gleam in his eye. He carefully pulled the towel off Leo, dropping it in the basin of the sink. “How’s that poem go? Happy Christmas to all,” Jim pushed his hips against Leo’s and stood up, backing him out of the bathroom to where the stars on their tree sparkled softly, illuminating the bed and its turned down covers. He unsnapped Leo’s jeans, then took his time unfastening the fly, kissing him to punctuate each opened button. He peeled the jeans and briefs down Leo’s legs, pausing to drop kisses all the way down and back up as he stripped him of his clothes. “And to all,” Jim said from the vicinity of Leo’s navel. “A good night.”

He pushed Leo’s hips down on the bed and Leo fell back with a groan, hands coming up to grasp Jim’s head.

“Amen,” he croaked, struggling to keep his eyes open. “Ho– Jim!” Leo gave up the struggle and closed his eyes, seeing stars anyway, and just held on, reveling in being alive.

+

 _Fin … for now_


End file.
